


On Your Left

by BlueCichlid



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Captain America meets Falcon, F/M, It is a pick up, Just like in the movie, Marvel Universe AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCichlid/pseuds/BlueCichlid
Summary: Jon Snow is Captain America.  When out jogging, he meets Falcon, and sparks fly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Jonsa week on tumblr. Unbeta'd.

A new day was breaking over the Washington Mall.  The sky was pink, the air clean and crisp with promise.  Jon didn’t truly need to run – the serum in his blood, still working strong after seventy years, kept his body strong – but he loved the feeling of it.  In the War, there had been so little time to take pleasure in this body and its abilities.

There was a woman ahead of him, Jon saw as he rounded the corner and took the long leg of the lap.  Tall, slim, but muscled like a dancer.  He knew these things after his time with the the chorus girls, he thought, and smiled at the memory.  This woman was more scantily clad than any of them would have dared back in the war.  She wore bright pink shoes, grey shorts not unlike a tiny version of Jon’s own military issue, and a top that was little more than a stretchy pink bra.  A shot braid of auburn hair hung down between her shoulder blades. 

“On your left,” Jon said as he passed her. 

The next time he passed her, she was running by the Jefferson Memorial.  _Damn, she’s fast._   He wondered if those shorts actually were military issue. 

“On your left.”  As he passed her, he couldn’t help but notice her speed up.  Was that a coincidence?

“On my left,” she said, from between gritted teeth.  “OK, got it.”

She was going flat out when he came behind her again.  As he closed the distance, she looked back over her shoulder. 

“Don’t say it.”

Jon found himself grinning.  “On your left.”  He passed her smoothly.

From behind him, he heard her voice raised in complaint. 

“Oh, come _on_!”

He found her slumped under a tree.  She was gasping for breath. 

“Need a medic?”

“I am a medic,” she gasped.  “What I need is the name of your personal trainer.”  She took a swig from her waterbottle.  It was old, dented, and official US military issue.

“I’m afraid he isn’t taking any more clients.”  He looked at the waterbottle, and the shorts, and then at her.  There was something about her bearing, something he wasn’t used to seeing in women from his day.  At least, from women other than Arya.  But she had been an exception, for her time, in some many ways.  He repressed a moment’s grief.  “What unit were you with?”

“58th Pararescue.  But now I’m working down at the VA.  I run a support group, do some counselling.” She got to her feet in one fluid motion and extended her hand.  “Sansa Stark.”

Her hand was warm in his.  _Damn, she’s prettier than Rita Hayworth.  And graceful – she moves like the chorus girl dancers used to.  Like she’s not bound by gravity._

“Jon Snow.”

Yeah, I put that together.  And I can see your clothes,” she said, with a disapproving sniff.

 _What’s wrong with my clothes?_ Jon wondered. The bright pink stretch outfit was worrying him.  He hoped he wasn’t supposed to be dressing like that.  But he wasn’t surprised to be recognized.  He’d been all over the news since New York, although most of the press had focused on Tyrion Lannister, with his flashy suit, and the image of Samwell Tarly all massive and green. 

“Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to,” he admitted.  He smiled, wishing there was some polite excuse to keep talking to the girl.  She was so pretty.  “It was good to meet you, Miss Stark.”

“It is your bed, isn’t it?”

_Wait … what?_

“Your bed.  It’s too soft.” 

_What???  She isn’t … she doesn’t … I know things are different now, but she doesn’t mean … ??????_

“When I was over there, I would sleep on the ground.  I got so used to it that I forgot there was any other way to sleep.”

 _Oh.  I’m an idiot._   Jon caught her meeting, and felt himself flushing in embarrassment.  He felt caught between relief and disappointment. 

“Now I’m home, lying in my bed, and its like—“

“—Lying on a marshmallow,” Jon finished.  He tried not to think about the picture of Sansa Stark lying in bed.  Or that they were finishing each other’s sentences.  “Feel like I’m going to sink right to the floor.” 

“How long?”

“Two tours.”

“You must miss the good old days.”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.  Food’s a lot better.  We used to boil everything.”

“You are from Brooklyn, right?  There are some amazing places for brunch in Brooklyn – last time I was there, I had most amazing smashed avocado and kale on a bed of black quinoa.” She made a face of pleasure.

_That sounds scary.  I wonder what Keen-wah is.  Some kind of jellyfish?_

Brooklyn had changed a lot from the place he and Arya grew up in, that was for sure.  Although maybe Arya would have been into smashing avocados into jellyfish for breakfast.

“No polio is good.” Jon said, trying to sound cool and suave, like Cary Grant would be in a situation like this.  “The internet, so helpful.  I’ve been reading that a lot trying to catch up.”  He suspected he didn’t sound like Cary Grant. 

She thought, and then her eyes lit up.  “Billy Joel’s We Didn’t Start the Fire – everything you missed up to 1989 jammed into one song.  You’ll love it.  It is everything you need to know, and probably everything you are feeling right now, too.”

He pulled out his notebook and pen and added it to his list. 

His ridiculous phone rang.  He looked at the screen.  “Mission Alert. Extraction Immanent. Meet at the curb.”

“All right, Miss Stark.”

She looked like she was about to burst out laughing.  “Sansa.  It is OK to call me Sansa.” 

“Well,” he waved the phone, with what he knew was a sheepish grin.  Cary Grant would not have been proud, he thought.  “Duty calls.”   

 _Damn, I wish there was some way to ask her out._ The chorus girls had always told him that he just needed to screw up his courage and ask, that that girl would say yes.  That hadn’t been Jon’s experience before he received the serum.

“Any time you want to stop by the VA, make me look awesome …”

“I’d love to,” he said, and flinched. 

An engine revved.  The sound was a soft purr full of muted power.  A black car pulled up at the curb.  It was all sleek lines.  The personalized licence plate read “Drogon.”  The window rolled down. 

Daenerys cocked an eyebrow.  “Hey there,” she said.  She looked amused.  Her eyes went from Sansa to Jon, then back to Sansa.  Dany looked her up and down, and her lips quirked into a smile.

“Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is?” she asked.  “I’m here to pick up a fossil.”

Jon nodded to Sansa.  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss—“ It felt awkward, but he made himself say it.  “Sansa.”  He got into the car, and looked back at her.  “You can’t run everywhere.”

“No, you can’t,” she said, and there was something of the wolf in her grin.  “Don’t forget our date, Jon Snow.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I may continue this at some point, but it won't be for a while as I have a lot of fic on my plate at the moment.


End file.
